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It had been a long day and an even longer mission. The kind that risked their lives in ways that tightened their grip on one another and whatever it was they shared. The kind so full of noise and violence that it begged for some much needed peace and blessed silence.
James and Artemus knew well how to keep one another company in the comforting lull. Nothing but the everyday sounds of The Wanderer carving its way through the darkness. No more than half the train car’s length between them, as if pulled by invisible string.
The curtains in the main car were all shut to avoid trouble, and unwanted eyes. Unable to understand what had long since grown beyond simple camaraderie.
It was something that still remained nameless. Despite what some might describe as a sordid trail of impassioned kisses and even acts of sodomy. Interspersed with flings with the fairer sex and bloodcurdling danger. Neither of which ever seemed to survive this nameless thing for more than a few weeks.
These were some the happiest months Artemus could remember. Jim, well, sometimes it was hard to tell when he was happy, from outside looking in as well as the inverse. Yet, Artie had a notion, or rather hope, his enigmatic old friend felt the same.
Although they’d been in the same room for hours now. It was because of this unspoken truth that Artemus wearied of the distance. Joining Jim on the couch where he was absorbed in one of his magazines. Resting his head on Jim’s lap, legs propped up on the armrest.
He’d brought several books with him. Placed on the coffee table, some were older, some newly acquired. More than any other man would dare finish in a single evening. No one who knew Artie would doubt his voraciousness for the written word. He just might tear through them all.
Still, there were things that could slow him down. Jim absently running his fingers through Artie’s hair was one of them. Artemus reflexively shimmied a bit closer, not wanting to discourage Jim. These rarer, gentler acts of affection were precious to him.
Something about little moments like this made Artie’s insides twist and ache. And not in the way they always did at a pretty passing skirt or when Jim meandered about the car half-dressed. The feeling hung between having more than he could ever have hoped for and not having enough.
They were the kind of feelings that demanded he give their reason a name. The kind that were painfully familiar to him, and always ended in heartbreak. The kind a man ought to have about his wife, if he were ever so lucky. The kind that gave him the urge to say the most dangerously stupid words he could come up with.
He held his tongue still as the words rattled through his brain in rhythm with the tracks beneath them.
“Hey Artie?” Jim stopped playing with his hair.
“Hm?” Artie feigned reading. Rather than expose the truth of being in agony over tender innocuous gestures. The pain sharpened now by its sudden absence.
“Uh…” Jim sighed, and pressed his lips into a thin line, betraying his troubled mind.
If Artie didn’t know any better, he’d say James West of all people was… nervous. It was peculiar, he’d seen Jim restless, even afraid, but never nervous. Nervous was hardly in West’s vocabulary let alone in his manner. Artie assumed he must’ve imagined it.
“Nevermind. Don’t worry about it.” Jim withdrew, returning his attention to the magazine he’d read through twice now.
“Oh.” Artie cleared his throat, determined to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t mind it. What you were doin’ before. If that’s what’s buggin’ you.”
“No…”
Jim recognized the unspoken request for what it was and continued weaving his fingers through Artie’s dark curls. There was a gentle distractedness to it now that wasn’t there before. Though Jim had now stopped pretending to read. Artemus finally distracted himself by burying himself in the realm of academia.
“What are you reading this time?” Jim peered at the dense scientific tome Artemus had chosen to dive into.
“Organic Chemistry For The Discerning Hobbyist,” Artie replied “I’m sure it’s a bit dry for your tastes James. I suppose I could throw together a dramatic reading if you wanted. Just to shake things up.”
“I’m alright thanks.” Jim grinned with forced politeness, shaking his head.
“Your enthusiasm for the craft never ceases to amaze!” Artemus responded dramatically in mock-offense without so much as looking up from his book.
That made Jim laugh, earning a smug little smile from Artemus. Belying the fact his heart wanted to explode.
Jim took a deep breath.
“I love you.”
Artemus froze dead in his tracks mid-page turn, he stopped being able to breathe, his overactive brain slammed on the breaks.
He felt like he may have just officially gone mad, cracked under the pressure of the job. Mechanically, he closed his book and twisted around to face Jim, sitting up on one elbow. The bastard wasn’t even looking in his direction, just staring out at nothing, like he hadn’t said a damn thing in the first place.
“Wha… What did you say?” Artie asked breathlessly, dumbfounded.
Jim dug his fingers into the armrest of the couch and swallowed hard. Something in his face twitched involuntarily. He forced himself to look at Artemus. He had that rare big blue eyed unguarded expression on his face that drove Artie absolutely insane at times.
This was one of those times.
“I love you.” Jim repeated blankly.
“Ah…” Artie sat the rest of the way up “Okay…” He leaned back and sighed, wide-eyed.
It was not in fact, “okay”. Jim had beaten him to something Artemus had unconsciously chosen to burden himself with. With all of the bluntness of a runaway freight train no less. If Artie had felt like a fool for wanting to saying something before. He ought to be the proud owner of a dunce cap and a nice little corner of shame somewhere on The Wanderer by now.
Jim’s face soured as if he’d done something awful and was greatly regretting it. His body tensed as if he was about to bolt. As if he could go anywhere Artemus wouldn’t follow, especially considering they were confined to a moving train. Artie grabbed Jim’s wrist reflexively to prevent the mindless attempt at escape and stared at him. Jim reluctantly relaxed, no longer worried he’d broken something beyond repair.
Not that there was anything to fix.
“Jim,” Artie began, not letting go of Jim’s wrist. “Do you- Do you mean that in the way that I think you mean it?”
“Of course I meant it.” Jim replied, a bit defensive, his courage slowly returning to him.
“That wasn’t the question.” Artie clarified with impatient determination.
“I mean, do you mean it like…” Artie struggled for the words, taking a deep breath, steepling his fingers. “Say one of us weren’t a man, and you had a notion. The kind of notion that makes a man settle down after a long search. Is that how you mean it?”
Jim looked away from Artie for a moment, lost in thought.
“Yes… and no.” Jim answered “Artie I- I don’t mince words, you know that. I don’t plan on changing.”
Jim turned to face Artemus now, grabbing both his hands, warm and reassuring as all get out. Artemus waited patiently for his friend to find the right words to say.
“Artie, I’ve been thinking, a lot, and… I have never in my life felt the way I do now about anyone but you. Not anyone, not friends, not family, and certainly not any girl I’ve met, and there’ve been plenty. I thought it wasn’t worth the trouble, getting attached, better off without it… or maybe that I wasn’t even capable of- of that sort of feeling.”
Artie winced almost imperceptibly at that, knowing in his bones that that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be farther from the truth than it was right now, in this moment.
“You changed that.” Jim emphasized, cupping the side of Artemus’s face, making his throat tighten.
“So what else am I supposed to say? I don’t know what else to call it.” Jim finished soberly.
“No no, I’d say that’s pretty accurate.” Artie conceded weightily, looking Jim up and down.
“And for what it’s worth…” Artemus’s tone dropped low and sultry.
He closed the distance between them, kissing Jim slowly and deeply, like it was the first time he meant it, really meant it. Because it was. Jim was eager and relieved in response. When it was over their foreheads were gently brushing against one another.
“I love you too.”